


Slipping Backward

by hallowinatardis



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Crying, F/M, Older Characters, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Running Away, Spiders, Sun West Line
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-04
Updated: 2013-07-07
Packaged: 2017-12-17 15:31:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/869112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hallowinatardis/pseuds/hallowinatardis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It's totally your choice? But we should be together."</p><p>If it hadn't been for the way he'd blushed to the roots of his hair and down past the collar of his shirt she might have laughed. Instead Annabeth said the first thing that came to mind.</p><p>"About damn time Seaweed Brain."</p><p>_____</p><p>Or the one in which everyone is older, Thalia lives, and Percy is just as emotionally constipated as before.</p><p>____</p><p>Tags updated as fic is. Preview: Thalia x Luke</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**May 16th 2005**

White furniture, beige carpet, and a neatly patterned bedspread in tans and browns that matched curtains and lampshades. The room of Annabeth Chase looked more like a picture from a Macy’s catalogue than the actual room of a twelve year old. Every piece of clothing was carefully folded in drawers or hung on matching hangers in a closet organized by color and sleeve length. If there were any toys they were hidden in perfectly straightened boxes on a white washed shelving unit that didn’t have a fleck of dust marring its picture perfection. 

Every single thing in the eldest Chase child’s bedroom was just that: perfect.

Except Annabeth herself who huddled under the neatly pressed blanket, ruining the clean lines with her shuddering form. Eyes squeezed tight, hands pressed hard over ears, she pulled herself into a ball and tried to ignore the scuttling, scratching, hissing sounds that surrounded her.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are.”

For one hysterical moment she noted that she was being stalked and tortured by monsters with a penchant for silly childhood games. Laughter bubbled up in her throat only to turn to ash and panic as the sound of clicking legs swelled beyond the relative comfort of her blanket. Squeezing herself tighter while a familiar desperation trickled down her spine, settling in her stomach and liver and lungs, Annabeth clung to a crazed sort of hope.

_If I can’t see it, it can’t see me._

Over and over she repeated her prayer, whispering it into the dark even as she knew, without a doubt, that it wasn’t true. She had long since lost the naive innocence that protected the young from boogeymen and monsters that crept in the night. Eventually, she knew, the beasts that had come to claim her would leave. It was almost clock work the way they came five minutes past midnight and left five minutes before dawn. In the morning she would tell her step mother, tears barely held back, and her step mother would say, like clock work, what she always said: “Stop lying. I don’t have time for your stories.” Then, almost as an after thought, already turning away to pay attention to her own children, she'd glance over her shoulder with a look of annoyance. "And I'm not calling your father."

A tear slipped from behind thick lashes as Annabeth thought about the parent she hadn't seen in days, weeks. Would he even care if he knew? It was the same line of questioning she faced every night while she awaited the dreaded descent of her torturers. Her questions hurt more than all the bites and scratches in the world and terrified her more than all the pincers and hairy legs ever could. Sometimes, when she felt particularly awful, Annabeth held the questions to herself like she was cradling an infant. She let them cut into her fingers and arms and chest because it was easier to deal with the outside terrors when her insides felt like she was bleeding out already. 

Cowering, she whimpered as the first one dropped onto her head, wrenching her instantly and painfully out of her emotional spiral. The tapping of its legs danced on her cheek through the thin blanket, wandering toward her ear, her neck. And she knew. In some dark part of her mind that mingled near her subconscious, she knew what the things were. She'd always known, had known from the first moment and decided to ignore it as best she could. Now, as they came upon her with fervor she wouldn't have been able to predict no matter how many times it happened, she couldn't ignore it any longer.

Spiders.

Black, hairy blobs with eight legs and beady black eyes. They covered her, surrounded her, burrowed their way under her blankets till they climbed up stocking-clad feet to sneak into her pajamas. Webs laced across her torso, ran down her thighs and crisscrossed her feet together. Angry red welts rose like an army across pale skin as their pincers sunk into mole freckled flesh. Sobs raked through her, eyes squeezed tight, one hand holding her nose almost entirely closed, her mouth shut tight as her chin trembled.

_They aren't real, they aren't real, they aren't real._

The mantra of lies ran through her mind, a chant that couldn't stymie thick, hot tears from rushing down her face. Horrified whines caught in her throat, lodged like a rock in her esophagus as a routine sort of panic settled onto her shoulders, suffocated her and strangled her until she thought - almost wistfully - that she might die.

Of course, she was never so lucky.

Hours passed, hours of biting and rustling and spinning, until sunlight began to peak through her curtains. As dawn bled through, the rush ebbed, frightened away by the promise of a new day. Or perhaps they were simply full. Full of bits of her, empty of silky web, and tired of her taste. It didn't matter the reason though. She sighed as they left, a shaky release that might have actually been a sob.

Finally.

Waiting stiff and cramped for them to disappear, she listened. Listened until the last spider had scurried back into the wall they'd oozed out of not hours before. Listened until she could hear her step mother's alarm, the first splash of a shower nozzle sputtering to life. Drawing the blankets back she sat up, praying as she always prayed, that for once it would be real.

Grey eyes opened, begging to look at blemished flesh even as they cowed away from the same sight. Not a cobweb or bite could be seen and she stood on wobbling legs to inspect the room she already knew would be bare. It was always bare. Wiping tears impatiently she steadied herself, steeled her nerves - no one would ever believe her. From the kitchen, proof wound its way up to her, snaking through the vents on the voice of her father's wife.

"ANNABETH! Annabeth up!"

Swallowing down the lump in her throat, Annabeth shouted back as if nothing at all was wrong. She shouted as if she hadn't lived through her every nightmare for what must have been the hundredth time, as if the attacks weren’t escalating, and every night wasn’t worse than the last.

"COMING!"

And she was... but not for school. Not this time.

Half formed ideas melded together, broke apart, and reformed themselves as new wholes as she dressed in a rush. Dragging on blue jeans and a purple camp tshirt she was always moderately disgruntled with for no apparent reason, she yanked her hair into a messy ponytail. She couldn't be bothered to care about how she looked. Being on the popular kid's To Befriend list was hardly important when her room was infested and her step mother kept trying to convince her she was a paranoid nutcase who needed psychological help.

Glancing at the clock on her desk she paused, hastily calculating how much time she'd need. Eyes fluttering shut in concentration she stood, one hand pulling books and school work out of her backpack while her mind seemed to literally whirl. Plan clicking into place, Annabeth shoved her homework under her bed with a swift kick. Passing geometry wasn't her priority anymore. Three shirts, two jeans, a jacket, six pairs of socks, and a handful of underwear replaced paper and rulers. Her phone - newly charged and rarely used staid where it was.

Annabeth, regardless of what her teachers said, wasn't stupid.

She knew phones were bad. Not because of brain cancer or radiation poisoning or whatever other fraudulent illness the media scientists were spouting off on any given day, but because whenever she used it they found her. She didn't know how, didn't know why, but it didn't take a genius to connect the dots. When her voice traveled the airwaves they came and that was exactly not what she needed.

Plus, phones had GPS and Annabeth wasn't really a fan of being hauled home in the back of a police cruiser.

Taking a sentimental few steps back toward her bed Annabeth shook her head, brushing silly thoughts of home and comfort away like gnats. She hadn't had the fuzzy childhood everyone was supposed to have since too many months before. At some point the whole concept had become an illusion, a daydream she kept herself company with while her body was mutilated and her mind tried to avoid going crazy. Stopping because of a fake fantasy was the last thing she was going to do. 

Pushing a flashlight she'd found in a cereal box and her wallet into the front pouch she nodded, her lips moving as she mouthed off the mental list she'd prepared in a subconscious daze halfway through the night. Partially to the door though Annabeth stopped, turned, and sighed. Darting back to the cork board that had been above her bed since before she could remember she snatched off a photo, shoved it in with the rest, and zipped up her bag. Out the door and down into the kitchen Annabeth nodded at her step mother, grabbed her pre-prepared meal from the fridge and left without a word. Somewhere deep in her gut she had a feeling it shouldn't have been that easy. That maybe, just maybe, running away was supposed to be more difficult - stir some emotional problems.

All Annabeth felt was relief.

Relief and a giddy sort of dizziness that made her question why she hadn’t escaped sooner. It wasn’t going to be easy but, well, nothing was ever easy and that, at least, she could handle. 


	2. Chapter 2

**August 30th 2005**

She crouched in the corner of an alley where garbage spilled from bins and the smell of dried urine permeated the air. Blonde hair, too bright even through the grime that coated like a second skin, fell in lanky strands around a haunted face. Anyone might have thought Annabeth was a ghost given the way she seemed to blend into the soot-blackened brick behind her. Her eyes were too bright to be dead though, her fingers too quick as they ripped through a days old package of bread. Hunger grabbed at her throat until she choked on blue mold and stale crust. Desperation had taken her to depths she hadn't thought possible.

How long had she been hiding in the shadows? 

How long would it be until they found her?

The thought, like the trailing of fingers down a spine made her tense, hands slowing until they stopped completely. Only the shallow breath of a girl too young to be alone broke the silence of the alley. For long minutes Annabeth stayed perfectly still - as if thinking of someone could call them. She'd seen it in a movie she wasn't supposed to have watched. It could be real. It wouldn't have been the strangest thing to happen to her.

 _Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Bettlejuice._

Finally she rose; face plump with baby fat twisted into a sneer of knowing too horrible for a child two years passed a decade. Tennis shoe clad feet moved forward to the entrance of the alleyway, to the edge of the dark, where lights from the main path beckoned her forward. If she were to step out, what would happen? Would the police see her? Would they grab her, question her, make her tell them everything until they were convinced she was crazy? Would they simply send her back home? Or would it be something worse?

Half crazed thoughts about the possibility of her nightmares catching up forced a shudder through slim wrists and down to wobbling ankles. Annabeth stood shaking on the in between. One step forward and she'd be well fed, dressed in clean clothes, treated to warm meals, and more physical things than any one person could hope for: payment for what they'd refused to believe, what they still wouldn't. One step backward though and the torment that was her childhood would slip into oblivion. 

Where was the balance? Where was the middle ground she'd heard so much about? Where was the compromise? 

Moving back into the corridor Annabeth turned and started walking, no immediate destination in mind. She simply knew that wherever she was going was better than home, better than the festering pit that was San Francisco. Quiet footsteps took her farther and farther away from her stepmother and that, if nothing else, kept her walking. No more threats of bedrooms full of webs and bites and things that scuttled in the night. No more threats of disappointed teachers or judgmental peers. One day soon they would find her body broken and mangled on the side of the road, she was sure. Perhaps then they'd believe her. Perhaps then their annoyance would dissolve as they realized she'd been right all along.

The monsters _were_ coming. Evil _was_ drawing near.

Emotions raked through her body as she walked, feet pounding down pavement without conscious thought. Anger and pain, highlighted and festering, overtook her between shivers of panic. California wasn't safe anymore. No matter where she went, no matter how far from the happy little fake family she traveled they found her. Things with glowing eyes and breath like the dead crept up in the night to claw at her clothes while they screeched for her death. Having decided sometime between her rolling stomach and the too bright flash of cop lights while she crouched in a corner that she was going to leave, Annabeth mulled her situation over. 

The simplest answer would have been to hitch a ride with a trucker going East. Unfortunately, she didn't fancy the risk of driving alone with a middle aged man while on the run. If nothing else had sunk in over the past months it was that humans were just as terrible as the monsters. Potentially even more so. Sliding down to rest against a brick building that might have been nice at one point Annabeth let her head fall into her hands. Planes were out of the question. Not only would the ticket be too expensive but a child traveling alone was bound to peak some suspicions. Especially since she hadn't showered in a handful of days.

Head hitting the wall she sighed, hands brushing greasy hair out of her face while she looked around helplessly. Across from street a train tracks crisscrossed in long lines of rusty metal behind a high fence and shallow field of dead weeds. Staring at them Annabeth zoned out, watching a cargo hitch with "SUN WEST LINE!" scrawled in a frankly appalling color creep into the station. Narrowing her eyes as she followed its progress she picked at the corner of her brain that seemed to be telling her something. Exhaustion combined with the hunger gnawing at her stomach made her sluggish and unsteady. Standing up Annabeth went with instinct, deciding that if she really was incapable of making logical decisions than perhaps whatever natural ability was helping her fight off the demons would figure out the rest as well. 

Stumbling forward she wiped at her eyes, smearing dirt across her grimy forehead without care. It wasn't as if she was about to be sparkling anyways. Walking along the wire fence that blocked off the freight transport she let her fingers bump over the metal haphazardly, half her conscious constantly on the sounds that surrounded her. A few blocks over a cat yowled and someone cursed as garbage cans toppled over but the night was blissfully free of the telltale hiss and grunts of the devil's minions. As she walked Annabeth chewed on the inside of her cheek, bleary grey eyes inspecting the fence for a reasonable entry point. Climbing, while easiest, was more visible and she didn't want a run-in with whatever rent-a-cop the transport station had hired to keep vagrants like her out.

Eventually Annabeth found her opening. It was nestled near the end of the sidewalk where the street opened up to industrial-sized buildings and the sounds of disgruntled minimum wage employees dropped away to the steady throb of what was probably an illegal rave. Glancing around carefully she crouched down, inspecting the hack job someone else had done before her. Pulling one side of the flap back she slipped out of her backpack and shoved it through first. Hands skimming the ground Annabeth sucked in a breath, pulled in her stomach and tried to ignore the scrape of rusting metal against exposed flesh as she squeezed through. On the other side, she stood up, grabbed her bag, and immediately ducked behind a conveniently placed pile of unused tracks.

Moderating her breath so the heady panic that always accompanied her breaking the law wouldn't set in Annabeth stayed where she was for long minutes. Seemingly deserted, the train yard sat with a misleading air of abandonment. Slowly she crept from her hiding spot, working her way from garbage bins to storage units as quickly as she could. Pregnant pauses came between each dash until the nervous tension that knotted her shoulders gave away to a determined clench of her jaw. As she reached the center of the station Annabeth looked around for something - _anything_ \- that looked familiar. 

Behind the sunny box car she'd seen earlier was a train facing the opposite direction. Thanking whatever God or gods were watching out for her (even though some part of her wanted to scoff and flip them off instead), Annabeth took a deep calming breath before sprinting toward the box. Ducking to see if there were feet on the other side she ran the length quickly. Dread built in her throat as she checked each car only to find them locked. Then, right before the dismay overwhelmed her, a sharp yank had the final container sliding open with a teeth clattering shriek. Wincing, she wasted no time in dragging herself up into the container and pushing it shut. 

Enclosed in darkness and the suffocating scent of rubber she slid her backpack off, unzipped the front pouched, and pawed through the contents till she found her flashlight. Flicking it on, Annabeth ran the weak beam across the narrow walls, sighing when she realized the entire unit was full of tires. No wonder it smelled. Sitting down, she leaned against a stack to stretch out her legs. It was going to be a long, long night. Hopefully, no one would find her until she was well out of California. The only problem was that she had absolutely no idea where she was going.

Of course, anywhere had to be better than home when home was filled with things that went bump in the night and lusted for her throat. 

Hadn't it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Thanks for reading! Originally the next five or so chapters (including the first) had been one? Except that seemed a bit excessive word count wise so they'll be coming (hopefully) quite rapidly but in shorter chunks. If that sounds like an absolutely horrible idea just let me know and I can start re-clumping them.
> 
> As is right now I _do not_ have a beta reader so if anyone is interested just let me know!
> 
> I'll be updating the tags, rating, and all of that stuff as other characters are introduced. If you notice I forgot something just let me know and I'll add it in!
> 
> And finally, I take drabble requests! Feel free to request a scene, pairing, sentence, phrase, whatever and I'll be happy to oblige!


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